


Nothing Special

by thedevilchicken



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Mid-Time Skip, Shower Sex, Sparring, Stress Relief, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 01:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Mid-time skip, Carol and Natasha need a little stress relief.





	Nothing Special

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRose/gifts).

She can't stop looking at her mouth. 

Carol knows it's really nothing all that special, as far as mouths go that she's seen out in the wilds of space. It's just two pink lips and the tip of a tongue that occasionally darts out and touches them; it's not blue or green or disconcertingly translucent, it's not full up with rows of sharp teeth like a whirring dental garbage disposal, and there's definitely no tentacles in there. At least she's pretty sure there's no tentacles. If there are, she's been really, really good about keeping them under wraps, considering.

It's just a mouth. A regular, totally standard human mouth. She knows that. And she still can't stop looking, every time she's back on Earth. 

Natasha mostly stays at Avengers HQ these days, in the compound everyone acts like they think is some kind of mighty stronghold but Carol's pretty sure it wouldn't take too much to stomp it to the ground - Earth as a whole is kinda tenuous that way. She knows Natasha used to be some kind of international woman of mystery, but the House That Stark Built is pretty much where she calls home these days, ever since what happened happened. She has a room there - because they all have a room there, even the ones who aren't really around anymore (or at all) - but she's in it maybe more than the rest of them put together. She knows what they're all doing, where they all are at almost all times, what their mission is; she's overwatch, that kind of thing. And maybe Carol doesn't need a babysitter, but it's good to know someone knows where to find her. Worst comes to worst, it turns out Natasha Romanoff has her back.

She's never seen her anywhere else outside HQ, pretty much except that one time with Thanos. HQ is where they are now. Carol won't be there for long, okay, because Earth's not the only planet out there that needs a hero, but it kinda makes a nice change to see Natasha live and in color instead of shades of silver-blue.

"You're looking at me," Natasha says. She's got her back turned as she pours a coffee at the kitchen counter and Carol frowns over her cereal. Somehow, of all the things she didn't know she missed about life on Earth, it turns out dumb novelty breakfast foods are high on the list. Any second now, she's gonna start craving Pop Tarts. 

"How do you do that?" she asks. "You can't even see me." 

Natasha raises the coffee pot and glances back at her over her shoulder. "Reflection," she says, giving the pot a tap to punctuate her point, then she turns back to her coffee with her braided hair swishing against her back. It's still damp from the shower she's just taken and maybe Carol's power set doesn't include enhanced senses, or at least not an enhanced sense of smell, but she doesn't need that to know if she got much closer she'd smell her fancy conditioner. Natasha doesn't allow herself too many luxuries and Carol knows that, but she appreciates that one of those luxuries involves smelling really, really good. 

Natasha turns around. She leans back against the counter with the cup of coffee cradled in both her hands. "Besides," she says, tilting her head, "I don't need to see you to know you're looking at me." 

"Oh, you don't?"

Natasha smiles almost slyly. "No, I really don't," she says.

She takes a sip of coffee and Carol watches her lips on the rim of the cup. She watches her wince a little at the too-hot, just-brewed temperature of it and then purse her lips to blow while she's still looking straight at her. Carol's insides do that giddy thing they still do sometimes when she flies, because no matter how long it's been since she got blasted into something superpowered, that shit really never gets old; honestly, neither does looking at Natasha. She likes her. She's some kind of hypercompetent badass ex-assassin with a razor-sharp wit, but she still looks great in pyjamas. 

"So, are you telling me you mind?" Carol asks. 

"Don't you think it's a little late for that?" Natasha replies. Her eyebrows arch. She sips again. And as her gaze wanders down from Carol's eyes, over her neck, her collarbones, the low neck of her shirt, her hands that are resting on the high-topped island where she's perching on a stool to eat, she feels her cheeks start to flush.

The thing is, she knows exactly what Natasha's referring to. She was there, after all. She was definitely there, because it's been sort of tough to stop thinking about it. She's definitely _thought about it_ more than once since yesterday.

Avengers briefings are nothing like Kree briefings and, maybe surprisingly given how many of them are ex-military, they're nothing like Air Force briefings either. Yesterday, Carol landed on Earth halfway through one of their briefings and walked in while the team's holograms were all still arrayed around the room. Rhodes was wearing his armor but the others...for a start, the raccoon was playing with a gun almost as tall as he was, disassembling or maybe reassembling it like some kind of deadly jigsaw puzzle while he talked. Carol's seen weirder things, but the team doesn't always scream 'professional'. She guesses she never has, either. 

Natasha smiled as Carol made her entrance and took a seat in her suit at the table. Twenty minutes later, they said their brief goodbyes and the projections flickered out. Natasha sighed, then she pushed herself up and leaned with both hands on the tabletop. It had been a frustrating meeting so Carol couldn't say she didn't get it. She looked tense, and kind of tired. They all looked kind of tired.

"It's about time I refamiliarize myself with the inside of the gym," Natasha said, then she smiled wryly. "Maybe I'll draw Thanos' face on the punchbag and put my fist through it a couple of times." She pushed up off the table and stood up straight. "Join me?"

Carol joined her. After the long flight, cooped up in a tiny ship because it wasn't like solo travel around the universe was exactly quick or exactly practical, blowing off some steam seemed like a really good idea. Of course, when they got down there, Natasha really did put her fist through the punchbag; she winced and shook her hands out, though that was probably more about the thought of expensing yet another bag than any kind of pain. They'd gotten through a few that Carol knew of, which probably meant there was a big ol' punchbag graveyard out there somewhere.

"Y'know, I don't think that's a fair fight," Carol said, waving at the sad remains of the bag. "How about you pick on someone your own size?"

Natasha raised her infuriatingly perfect brows, then she raised her fists. And okay, so it still wasn't a fair fight considering how Carol could probably have launched the damn punchbag into orbit and not just bust it open with her fists, but that wasn't to say it was a total waste of time. They fought, and maybe Carol wasn't about to wind up bruised or broken, but Natasha definitely knew what she was doing. In a straight-up fist fight, Carol had a feeling she would've wound up flat on her back on the floor (which, okay, was pretty hot); as it was, Natasha basically just used her like a superhuman punchbag substitute till the stress was all fought out of her. It was a shame it didn't have the same effect for Carol - she was wound up ten times tighter than she had been by the end of it. She really should've known that was how it would go. It wasn't like she didn't know she had the hots for the Russian ex-spy, like some kind of romance novel cliché.

When they were done, Natasha hit the showers. Carol went with her, more to wash off the space flight ick than workout sweat. They stripped and left their clothes on the benches outside and headed in, and Carol found herself glancing. She found herself looking. She knew she shouldn't, and she told herself she had to stop, she _really_ had to stop, but Natasha's back was turned...so she watched the shower water wet her two-tone hair and run down the length of her spine, her ass, her legs. 

It wasn't the first time she'd looked. It wasn't the first time she'd thought about what would happen if she got caught looking. Then Natasha said, "You're looking at me," and she found out exactly what the answer was. 

"I'm sorry," she said, and she wrenched her gaze off her right away. "You're...look, I'm sorry." 

"Don't be." 

Carol frowned. "Don't be?" she asked. Then Natasha came closer. Natasha joined her underneath her showerhead, naked, wet. She put one hand over Carol's bare sternum, fingertips spread out to her collarbones, and eased her back against the wall to hold her there at her arm's full length. Maybe the chill of the tiles made her shiver, or maybe it was the way Natasha looked at her, up and down, over her breasts to her cunt and back up slowly to her face. 

"Don't be sorry," Natasha said, and then she slipped her free hand down between Carol's thighs. She gave a slow, deliberate squeeze. "I'm not." Carol swallowed. "You seem tense. You helped me; let me help you." Natasha raised her brows. "Yes?"

Carol figured it was best she didn't speak, or maybe she'd've changed her mind. She nodded. Natasha smiled. And then she sank down to her knees. 

It wasn't like she hadn't looked at her before. It wasn't like she hadn't looked at her mouth and her hands and imagined, because honestly she has a pretty vivid imagination when it comes to that kind of stuff. But then Natasha nudged at Carol's calves till she shuffled them apart and then she trailed one fingertip between Carol's thighs, over the place where her labia met. She used her thumbs to part them and Carol felt the almost-too-hot shower water run down over her clit, making her throb or maybe that was just from looking down as Natasha looked up. She had her long hair slicked down against her skin, no makeup, no clothes, just her bare skin, and she kept her eyes on her with just a flicker to her pussy as she leaned in to tease a circle around her clit with the tip of her hot tongue. 

Carol's hands balled into fists. She pressed her head back against the wall. Natasha's fingers began to tease her open, just the tips against her slit, just the tips of a couple dipping in, then she pressed her middle finger into her right to the knuckles and Carol groaned out loud. Her fingers tangled into Natasha's wet hair and Natasha licked her, sucked at her clit, pushed in with a second finger and made Carol groan again. She pressed against her hand, against her mouth. She could feel herself clenching around Natasha's fingers; she could feel herself rocking her hips down against them; she could feel the way the muscles in her thighs started to tremble as her breath hitched and she took two handfuls of her own damn hair so she couldn't lose control and do something to fuck up Natasha's. She bit her lip. And Natasha kept on going, harder, the pressure just right, the pressure _more than right_, building, making her clench her jaw, making her turn her head and tense her neck and press the wet ground with her toes as finally, _finally_, she came against Natasha's mouth. It had been a while. It felt even better than she remembered.

She gasped. And when Natasha pulled back, and when Carol looked down, Natasha had spread her knees out wide as she knelt on the floor. She had her fingers pushed up deep inside herself, her hips bucking, and Carol went down onto her knees, too. She slid the fingers of one hand into Natasha's hair and only hesitated a moment before she kissed her, mouth to mouth, hot and wet and hard. She squeezed one breast with the other hand, pinched one nipple between her thumb and fingers and made Natasha moan against her mouth. She ran that hand down over Natasha's hot, wet skin and found Natasha's hand. She pushed one finger into her, alongside two of her own, and Natasha just rode them harder. She thumbed her clit, maybe a little roughly, but that was it, turned out that was right - Natasha came from it. She felt it. She almost could've come again herself, watching the way she came undone.

For a moment, after, they rested their foreheads together and let the water shower over them just while they caught their breath. Then they dragged themselves up, and they turned off the water, and they went outside to dry themselves off. Natasha's lips were a little redder than usual - with a spark of satisfaction, Carol knew she'd done that. And hell, she really did feel a whole lot less tense. 

Then they ate after that - turned out Captain America was a pretty good cook - and they all watched an old movie Carol actually half-remembered and they sent a couple of messages out across the galaxy, and it was almost like nothing had happened at all. Except Carol couldn't stop looking at Natasha's mouth and remembering all the places it had been, not exactly long ago. She still can't stop looking, even now. 

"Don't you think it's a little late for that?" Natasha says, and she sips her coffee, the morning after the night before. "Let's not pretend you haven't seen me naked, hot shot. Let's not pretend you're not going to again." 

Her eyebrows arch suggestively as she leans down against the counter. Her pretty mouth twists up into a not-quite-teasing smile and Carol can feel her face turn hot. She's seen her dressed up, hair done, makeup fixed, and that's super-hot; right now, she's pretty sure bare-faced in PJs is even better than that. Naked might be better still.

She won't be here for long because mostly her job's out there, on other planets. But Natasha puts down her cup and she comes around the counter; she hops up to straddle Carol's lap and when they kiss, she tastes like coffee. There's coffee in space, at least in some places she goes, but it's not the same as it is back home. It's definitely not like this.

And okay, so there's nothing all that special about Natasha's mouth. It's not purple and as big as Carol's head. It's not some kind of gateway to another dimension or likely to suck her bones out through her throat. It's normal. It's normal and human and not special at all. 

So she figures maybe the special part is who it's attached to.


End file.
